


Royal Consort Donatello

by Koalagriton



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: F/M, consort donatello, harem boy donnie, jhannatello, petitioner au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:31:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5795344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koalagriton/pseuds/Koalagriton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jhannatello 2003. Harem Boy Donnie, Petitioner AU. Donatello has travelled to Omatran seeking Jhanna 18 years after their brief yet passionate encounter on Earth. Prime Magistrate Jhanna decides to take him as her Consort. A series of one-shots depicting Donnie's life in court and at Jhanna's side. NSFW adult themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waiting

Donatello looked around distractedly as the Omatran noble assigned as his instructor for etiquette went on about about the importance of correct posture. He hadn't seen Jhanna since their first reunion ten days ago when he'd arrived at Court. He'd been so frightened she wouldn't want him here after he had travelled so far to pursue something with her. He risked a lot when he showed up fuelled by the memory of a single night of passion with the blue-skinned warrior nearly two decades ago and nothing else to offer the Prime Magistrate other than himself.

 

Against all odds, (he'd calculated on his travels the probability of his offer being accepted and his chances were negligible) he'd been accepted and taken in, informed of what was going to be his new role and started being prepared for it. They'd moved him into a lavishly furnished room, bathed and clothed him in fine silks. He was struggling to adapt quickly to a lot of the changes, for example, the bathing. It still made him feel incredibly awkward and uncomfortable to have strangers actually bathe him and massage oils and perfumes into his skin. When he'd tried to politely decline the attentions he'd managed to offend and had to backtrack quickly. Now he just endured it in silence.

 

He still had enough attention left over from his musings to nod and agree in the appropriate moments of the conversation while his mind wandered. It was a skill he'd honed to perfection during Leonardo's interminable lectures. Once the noble left for the day Donatello turned towards his empty room and sighed, not sure what to do with himself. Technically, he had free reign of the palace grounds as long as he was escorted by a guard but this was Omatran for: "you're not really allowed anywhere or do anything but it would be impolite to say so outright".

 

Knowing how straight forward and honest Jhanna was, he was surprised to see how ceremonious and elaborately polite everyone behaved in Court. It was a nice way of saying they seemed "fake" because as he'd come to learn, people here rarely truly said what they meant. The careful politeness and compliments were all just a facade.

 

There was a distinct feeling of artificiality about everything here. The correctness always disguised a certain aggressiveness behind the messages relayed with perfect poise and civility. He learned this lesson quickly and realised, to his chagrin, that he hadn't actually made any real friends during his time here and was uncertain he would ever. He'd learned to see beyond the forced correctness he received from most around him that hid an obvious disdain for his suddenly acquired position, usually reserved only for those of highly influential families who held titles within the court.

 

With no one to really socialize with (he abstained from the fake friendly reunions and idle chatter of the Court unless it was specifically requested of him) he spent a great deal of his time on his own. He suspected it was also due to the fact that no one really believed that the Queen had chosen him to be her Consort. At least, that was what he was told by those appointed to prepare him for court duties. Court duties, heh. So far it seemed they consisted in a lot of standing straight and being quiet unless called upon.

 

He was tempted to call everything off and head home but he wouldn't do so without seeing this through first. He needed to talk to her, to see her and make sure they were on the same page, or at least in the same book.

 

"Jhanna..." He sighed.

 

Maybe their night together didn't mean the same to her as it did to him. Maybe he had been accepted only for diplomatic reasons and not a mutual desire. She did accept rather quickly and without even talking to him to explain what was happening in person he had been told he would be her Consort. Consort to the Queen! It seemed a little fast. He'd expected there to be some kind of courtship or... something. He'd barely even been able to look at her!

 

He was told she'd had to leave immediately to settle some treaty dispute in the Western Regions, formerly Moriah's domain and now governed by her sister Eriah, and he understood that her duty would not stop just because he suddenly showed up out of the blue. When he asked the Council to accompany her to provide help he had been dismissed and mocked in their polite, courtly way.

 

A quiet knock at the door let him know it was already time for supper and the boy assigned as his attendant entered, walking softly to make as little noise as possible and keeping his gaze on the ground, never looking at him directly while he spread out the meal on one of the tables near a window where he preferred to sit. He was a young Omatran, looking to be no more than fourteen or fifteen with dark midnight-blue skin and light, almost white hair. The sides and back of his hair were cut short and the top was braided tightly against his scalp and tied back into a long tail. He didn't wear any jewellery even though the other servants in this part of the palace grounds did. He was probably low born, ' _just like me_ ', Don thought.

 

He had tried talking to him when he'd first arrived and managed to get his name. "Cereth," he'd stuttered quickly and nothing else, hunched in on himself as he tried to take up as little space as possible. Don had kept talking through the silence as he served him, trying to befriend him but he only answered when asked something directly in short concise answers or with a "One such as I wouldn't know about that, m'Lord."

 

He sighed and rose to walk over to see if he could manage to eat something before heading to bed. As he sat down to start poking through his food he realised the boy was still standing behind him, which was odd. Cereth would usually scurry away quickly and stay out of sight until he had to clean up and always did so silently. Donatello turned, wondering what the boy would need of him and watched him hesitating, glancing between the servant's door where he should be walking through and wringing his hands together.

 

"Don't despair," he said quietly. "The Queen will be back soon."

 

Donatello looked up and for a moment their eyes met before the boy realised what he was doing and bowed low, apologizing. Don stopped him before he started grovelling, "You don't have to do that with me, please. I'm not used to all of this." He waved a hand vaguely around with an embarrassed smile. "I guess I must look a mess for you to be so worried about me."

 

"I-I didn't mean...!" Cereth looked horrified at what he'd done but stopped short when he glanced back up to Don.

 

Donatello gave him a genuine smile and the boy froze for a moment before returning it timidly. "You seem different than the others... kind. I know you've been upset and... l-lonely." He blushed at his forwardness. "Don't fear, it won't be much longer."

 

Finished with what he had to say, the boy bowed low and scurried out of the room quickly. The talk with Cereth, though brief, had lifted Don's spirits. He'd try wandering the Palace again tomorrow and find out when the Queen was due to return. Maybe he'd look for Cereth and try talking to him again. Once Jhanna was back he could perhaps ask to her to be given access to the palace library or be allowed out of the palace into the city.

 

He settled into his bed and thought of her. His memory of that night would have to fuel him a little longer. It had been eighteen years ago but he felt like no time had passed. He brought to mind his first experience every once in a while, savouring every detail he could recall and then putting it away to cherish privately. Not even his brothers had known about it until he told them years after it had happened. He didn't go into details either, what they did and how far they went was only between them and he didn't mention it again until he'd made up his mind about coming here.

 

* * *

 

She'd spent the night with them after defeating Moriah. They shared their provisions and ate, retelling parts of the battle the others could have missed without sparing colourful descriptions and animated (if slightly exaggerated) demonstrations. Though it was amusing, he found he couldn't pull his eyes from her, he was absolutely taken with her strength, beauty and skill in combat.

 

Later that night, while the others slept she'd led him away from the camp into a clearing in the woods far enough to not be disturbed. At the time, he'd thought she wanted to speak to him about something but when he asked what she wanted, she'd smiled and kissed him, caressing his green skin, whispering how beautiful and strong he was.

 

He couldn't even respond, just stared at her as his world turned upside-down and inside-out and before he knew what was happening she'd pulled him down and pressed him into the cool grass, divesting herself of her armour and shimmying out of her body suit as she stood over him. He must have looked like a confused fish gaping at this blue-skinned goddess, wondering if this was all a mistake or some elaborate joke. Any moment now she'd stop disrobing and laugh at his credulousness but pieces of armour and clothing kept being discarded with small thuds on the grass as he watched in disbelieving awe.

 

To his embarrassment, he dropped down the moment she removed her last item of clothing, unable to hold his erection for even a moment, stunned that this was happening to him and not sure if he was awake or still dreaming. His cock twitched and bobbed under her hungry stare. If his world hadn't been been spinning he might have had the presence of mind to try and cover himself from her sight. When she hummed appreciatively he thought he could probably get off just like this.

 

He had never been looked at this way or touched how she touched him before, as if he were desirable, as if she couldn't get enough of him. Her fingers left burning trails wherever they slid over him and he hissed and moaned in pleasure, squirming under her helplessly as she raked her nails over his shoulders and down his plastron. His head was spinning and he wouldn't have been able to respond if they were attacked. He probably wouldn't have even been able to stand up without falling over.

 

He didn't know what to do with his hands. Her warm thighs pressed against his as she straddled him, his erection standing between them and he gasped whenever the slight movement of her body made it brush against her abdomen. It felt like electricity, a jolt of pleasure coursing through him even with the slightest touch. He tentatively moved his fingers from where they were buried in the grass to brush timidly over a smooth knee and she smiled down at him, covering his hand with her own to slide it up her thigh and rest on the crease where it joined her hip.

 

He groaned at the sky, pushing his head back and to the side in the grass. He was losing his mind, _hyperventilating isn't helping either,_ he thought to himself as he bit his lips and tried to reign in his panting breath and galloping heart, trying and failing to quiet the noises he was making. At this rate the others were bound to come over to investigate and there was no way he wanted any interruptions now.

 

The little control he did manage to get over himself went to hell the moment she took his length in her warm hands. He thought he was going to come immediately. His whole body shook and his hips jerked upwards, but he managed to pull her hands away from him before embarrassing himself while stammering that he had never done this before.

 

She smiled at his confession, a wicked glint in her eye and Don swallowed audibly, feeling completely at her mercy. Reaching this point he would probably let her do whatever she wanted to him, he could barely put two thoughts together through his haze of desire.

 

"Untouched," she hummed and the sound went right to his cock that twitched in agreement. She squeezed him back and he whimpered, "you are a gift to me for my victory." She breathed huskily, raking her nails over his plastron.

 

He threw his head back and let out a loud churr that echoed around them but he couldn't care less if the sound carried back to camp. She leaned forward and kissed him more gently this time, soothing his fevered skin with slow, steady touches, whispering endearments until his heavy panting breath slowed once again.

 

She lifted herself up then, lining up with his cock and pressing herself down. The fleshy head of his erection flattened slightly and then parted her folds entering her heat as she moaned. She felt tight around him and she had to rock her hips gently to slowly ease him into her body. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised he should probably stop making those strangled mewling noises but for the life of him he couldn't stop. By the time he was fully sheathed inside her he was already whimpering, biting his bottom lip, his hands fisted in the grass as he struggled to not tumble over the edge.

 

Her movement stilled and she reached between them to squeeze his shaft where they were joined at the base of his tail. He yelped at the sudden stinging sensation, a burning pinch that dampened his pleasure.

 

"Not yet, my sweet Donatello. I am not done with you." She whispered breathlessly.

 

Her hand covered his, opening his fists and pulling him up into a sitting position to embrace him, comforting him with quiet words and then holding onto him tightly as she began to ride him slowly, making love to him as he trembled in her arms. He held on with every ounce of willpower he had but he didn't last, churring loudly into her chest as he spilled into her body in a mind blowing orgasm that had him nearly blacking out shortly after they had just begun. She held him close to her body as she rocked her hips, grinding against him with his half-hard cock still inside her, seeking friction until she came as well, moaning into the side of his head, squeezing around him in spasms.

 

He listened to her breathing, caressing her back as she recovered and then pulled her down when she slumped against him to lay beside him in the soft grass. He watched her as she surfaced from the haze of her orgasm. Now that he was in possession of his wits again he needed to know what this meant.

 

They talked through most of the night. She told him of her world, he told her of his, how they lived, that they were the only four of their kind. She asked him to go with her, she would be leaving very soon and he politely refused. He had a duty to his brothers after all.

 

They returned to camp while it was still dark and she left before sunrise, while he slept by her side leaving behind her braids as the only testament of what they had shared.

 

* * *

 

He sighed at the memory replaying over and over in his head, tossing and turning in the lavish silk sheets of the large bed as sleep eluded him. His recollection of that night haunted him now more than ever. He had waited eighteen years before allowing himself to follow this dream, he should be able to wait a little longer to see her.

 

He looked out the open window at the sky, it was close to sunrise already. He pulled off his sheets and got up. Having found his motivation he sat down among the few books he had been given, all about either etiquette or the genealogy of the noble families and those who rose to power over the history. He used these early hours to study earnestly. He'd gain the skills Jhanna needed from him and give her everything he had. Only then, if that wasn't enough, would he be satisfied with his attempt at chasing his dream.

 

Not long after, at least it didn't seem as if much time had passed, he heard quick steps outside his room and was on alert immediately. A sharp knock came shortly after and Cereth burst through the door the moment he raised his voice to give his permission. He took a moment to compose himself abashedly for his rude entry and exclaimed, "She's here! She's back!" not able to hold back his enthusiasm any longer.

 

Donatello bit back his cry of joy even though he couldn't help the wide grin that took over his mouth. Cereth's own smile shone through in response and the boy reached forward to grip him by the hand when someone else stepped through the open door. Cereth immediately schooled his face and cowered into the corner where he was supposed to remain while he was attending.

 

The guard eyed the boy with an angry frown but said nothing about the servant's slip, "Prime Magistrate Jhanna has returned and she wishes to see you." She said in a firm voice.

 

Finally, his chance had arrived. After all this time, his wait was over.


	2. Mine

“I've heard your new slave is quite talented.” Lady Eriah interrupted Jhanna as she was explaining the catastrophic consequences of the recent floods in the southern provinces. The room went silent and eyes turned to the woman who kept speaking. “Rumour has it your pet is well learned in the bedroom and quite...” She eyed Donatello up and down lustfully, gaze pausing halfway down his body. “endowed.”

 

Donatello, standing behind Jhanna's seat turned his head slightly, the dangling beads of the ornament on his head clicking together with the movement. If you didn't know Jhanna you would think she was bored with the comment but Don could see the tell-tale twitch of the muscle in her temple showing she was trying very hard not to grind her teeth.

 

He remembered Jhanna telling him of Eriah and her family. She was the sister of Moriah, the former Prime Magistrate whom Jhanna had defeated in combat, with a little help from him and his brothers. She had the same purple markings decorating her jaw and was dressed lavishly in silks and gold ornaments. Even though her sister was stripped of her title and position, her family still held a lot of power. They owned some of the richest lands in the nation, and Jhanna had summoned her to convince her to aide the suffering provinces with their resources.

 

“Consort.” Jhanna corrected firmly, turning everyone's attention back to her. Donatello straightened and looked ahead, lifting his chin and trying to hide the colour in his cheeks at the other woman's insinuations. “The word you are looking for is Royal Consort.”

 

Eriah scoffed and put her chin in her hand petulantly, elbow resting on the long table where she and the other Ministers were seated while Jhanna continued speaking. When she asked one of her court members to detail what was needed the woman spoke up again.

 

“Perhaps it would put me in a better mood to listen to this dull report if you would lend your beast to me.” She flicked her mahogany locks behind her shoulder and smirked when Jhanna stiffened at the interruption. One of the Ministers made to speak up but Eriah silenced her with the wave of a hand and kept her eyes glued to Jhanna.

 

Donatello's eye ridge lifted at this, she still held a lot of influence even here in the new Court. He'd have to speak with Jhanna later. She might need to purge the offices of the people who's loyalties were questionable. He looked around the room taking mental note of the expressions on each of their faces. There were those who seemed outraged while others looked amused and not surprised at all. _They are using her feelings towards me to provoke her and make her seem emotional and irrational_ , he concluded.

 

“Perhaps you could try to show a little more self control while we are talking of serious affairs and reign in your desires until we are done here.” Donatello winced internally at Jhanna's words. It could have been worse, Jhanna was not known for her patience or diplomacy when slighted.

 

The meeting continued without further interruption but he couldn't avoid the heated looks Eriah kept sending his way, devouring him with her eyes. The look was quickly replaced with the glimmer of victory when Jhanna's armrest creaked from how she was crushing it in her hand in fury. He had felt very relieved when it was over and they were back in Jhanna's personal quarters.

 

“They were testing you.” Donatello spoke up, standing in the middle of the room. “She was trying to provoke a reaction out of you. I doubt she even meant a word she said.”

 

Whatever he was going to say was cut off as Jhanna pressed her mouth to his. The kiss was urgent and possessive. She thrust her tongue past his lips to claim his mouth, her hand finding purchase on his carapace to shove him backwards. He toppled over onto her bed when his calves hit the side of the mattress and she climbed on top of him, pinning him down holding his wrists over his head. “I wanted to... gouge her eyes out... for looking at you... that way.” She said between bites and licks over his neck and shoulders.

 

He groaned at the rough treatment. That, coupled with how the scent of her intense arousal assaulted his nose, made his tail stiffen between his legs and curl up immediately and he couldn't hold back his erection any longer. The moment she felt his thick cock rubbing against the inside of her thigh she grabbed it around the shaft and squeezed, making Donatello whimper, the mix of pain and pleasure overloading his senses.

 

She lifted herself off him, not relinquishing her prize, to kneel beside him. She spread his legs further apart to leave room for his swollen tail and brought her mouth to it, tonguing the soft folds from where his member protruded, pushing the tip of her tongue past it into the already crowded slit. Donatello whined and squirmed trying to sit up to watch what she was doing to him but her palm pressed firmly on his plastron, pushing him back down.

 

Her other forearm pressed down on his thighs when he continued to move as her tongue and teeth dragged over his stiff but sensitive tail, trying to keep him still and at the mercy of her ministrations. He cried out when her teeth came around the base of his shaft and stilled. She wasn't using much pressure and it didn't really hurt him but he was becoming increasingly sensitive.

 

The rest of his cock ached for attention, for even a small amount of friction. He was already delirious with arousal. His attempts at moving his hand to pleasure himself were met with a feral growl from her and she held him down more forcefully.

 

“I'm yours.” He said breathlessly, recognizing her need to possess him, and he wasn't sure he had said the right thing until her warm mouth came over to the tip of his swollen cock and swallowed him almost whole. He howled, head thrown back, shaking at the feeling and after just a few thrusts came into her mouth with a loud churr, coating her throat and tongue and dizzy from the intensity of his orgasm.

 

Her tongue lapped at his softening member lovingly and then moved to his thighs and lower plastron, licking up his spilt seed. He felt more than heard a soft purring-rumble that came from her body as she climbed up to him and pressed herself against him. She caressed his trembling body tenderly, pulling him towards her and comforting him with soft kisses to his face and over the darkening marks of her teeth on his neck as his breath and heart beat slowed.

 

“Mine.” she said, smiling against his cheek.

 


	3. Incoming Transmission

_Contacting Satellite xv849... Connection established. Status: online. Transmission open._

_Initializing video recording..._

  
  


The screen blinked and a warped image of Donatello came into view before focusing, behind the turtle there seemed to be a rush of people as they carried things across what looked like a large meeting hall.

  
  


“Hello, uhm, I hope you are all well... I don't have much time to explain, I don't even know where to start, uh...” He rubbed his bare face, dark shadows under his eyes and lines of worry etched over his features as he sighed. “By the time you get this message it might all be over anyway but...”

  
  


“War broke out a few months ago. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to worry you and... well, no one thought-” He chuckled mirthlessly shaking his head. “ _Most people here_ didn't think it would last long, that it was all idle threats to try the strength and resolve of the government. They are... well you remember Moriah, right? Her family still hold a lot of power and they've instigated the Northern provinces into civil war and even some of those who were loyal to Jhanna... anyway.”

  
  


He waved a hand dismissively. “That's not important, they're about to reach the Capital and we're evacuating. I don't know if you get any news from other sources, Honeycutt or the Utroms but just know that I'm safe. We're leaving now and I might not be able to contact you for a while but I will the first chance I get to let you know I'm alright, I promise.”

  
  


He hesitated for a moment and seemed to look off screen, nodding his head before continuing. “I love you all.” He said as he half stood up, leaning forward to stay in the frame.

  
  


A muted explosion could be heard in the background and the people behind him froze. Donatello turned his head around and everyone seemed to hold their breath in silence waiting to see if it was what they thought it was. Another explosion shook the image, some of the people began screaming and then panic broke out as everyone tried to rush in the same direction at the same time. Donnie and the laptop fell over with the third explosion and the image went black.

  
  


_Transmission lost. Unable to reach portable server: xv001 Donatellos laptop. Status: offline._

_Replay last transmission? Y/N __

 


	4. War

Nearly 100 days since they'd lost the Capital, forced to evacuate the Government before they were overrun and nearly not making it in time. No one had been able to predict the betrayal of the Eastern province of Qhalo and their militia while practically all of their forces had been sent to quickly squash the uprising in the Northern provinces. “No one” was a loose term, what they really meant when they used that term was: no one of importance.

  
  


Donatello was “no one of importance” as far as opinions were concerned. He was not an expert on war, had only read every book in the library on the subject but that wasn't necessary to see that it was foolish to leave Omatria so unprotected. It was arrogant to make that decision and it was blinded with the desire to end the war quickly with as much show of force as was possible.

  
  


“Who would have anticipated Qhalo had been planning treason?” They later said around a war table in a tent set up a safe distance from the fallen city, as if Donatello hadn't tried to point out that the Qhalovite Governor had abstained his vote on each and every decision made pertaining the northern Keztosian provinces or when it didn't benefit Moriah's family's domain.

  
  


No one remembered how they'd sneered at his occurrence when he suggested how suspicious it had been for the Governor to recuse himself from the city with the excuse of organizing his forces to aide them when in fact they sent none to the front. Jhanna had apologised for Donatello's comment excusing it with his little knowledge about Omatron's traditions and heritage. The Qhalovites were renown for their protection of the Capital and upholding the Law in times of political strife for nearly a millennia, she'd patiently explained it to him _in public_ as if he hadn't ever picked up a book on Omatrian history.

  
  


“Loyalties can change.” He'd answered with a shrug and had caused a murmur to spread amongst the court and a warning glare to be silent from Jhanna along with a whispered dismissal and order to wait for her in her quarters. He'd had to leave in front of everyone, to his embarrassment and surprise, as if he were a scolded child sent to his room for acting up around the adults.

  
  


“We are not human! You will refrain from giving your opinion on these matters.” She'd reprimanded later in private.

  
  


“You cannot mean to tell me that your kind are above such things as greed or lust for power... or arrogance.” He'd answered pointedly but it had been futile.

  
  


In the end he'd let it go begrudgingly, if only to preserve their relationship for he knew there was no way to change her mind on the subject and even if he could, the Ministers would not be swayed. He was allowed to be present on the condition he remain silent and he had been from that moment forward, never bringing it up again even when the troops had been spotted marching on the Capital while their whole army was engaged at the front half a world away, or when they'd lifted Moriah's banners when they were less than a day's march from them.

  
  


Being right had never tasted so bitter in his mouth, too bitter to utter a word about it specially to Jhanna who carried the weight of being the ruler who'd lost the Capital. She'd been quiet around him ever since, sleeping in the same tent once they'd left the city, but only sharing the space and body heat. He'd respected her decision and not commented on it either.

  
  


He still remembered her expression, the way she had paled when they'd given her the news at court and how everyone had glanced at him for a moment as if he were to blame and remained silent, waiting for her orders.

  
  


“Evacuate.” He'd whispered so only she could hear.

  
  


She'd turned her head to him in shock and immediately looked away, shaking it slightly in denial. “We cannot lose Omatria...” Her voice trailed off as she looked at the worried faces of her subjects.

  
  


Finding strength within her she drew herself up and stood. “The city is lost.” She said with a firm, unwavering voice.

  
  


There was an uproar but she raised her hand to silence them. “We are being punished for our arrogance.” She announced, using Donatello's words spoken in private. “For believing tradition was enough to hold power over our people and that our kind was above such treacherous actions.”

  
  


“We must evacuate the city. The Government must survive long enough for our forces to regroup and take our capital back. This is but one city, mortar and stone, but if we let our arrogance keep us here we will not be able to continue the fight. Please make the necessary arrangements, we must leave as soon as we can.”

  
  


Everyone began talking amongst themselves and some were rushed away with orders, the throne room became the neural centre to organize the evacuation. They had less than 12 hours, or so they thought, to escape during the night somehow. Ideas were tossed around and discarded, arguments broke out as servants carried messages and items. Donatello managed to scoot behind the throne area at the backs of the guards to send his message to his family. He didn't believe they had as much time left as they'd said and their situation was much more dire and his fears were confirmed when the first explosions were heard.

  
  


People were frantically trying to escape when they realised what was happening but then the elaborate stained glass dome and windows of the main hall of the Royal Palace imploded during the attack, raining beautifully coloured deadly shards upon the people inside. Everyone seemed to freeze in place, hypnotised by the shimmering kaleidoscope that fell around them unaware of the danger they were in or paralysed by it.

  
  


Donatello felt like he was moving through aspic as his adrenaline hit while his mind filled with the dwindling probabilities of survival, the time he had after the larger shards dislodged, calculating by the height, air resistance is negligible, downwards acceleration- _not g, 9.8 metres per second is for Earth, it's slightly less for Omatron-_ He dropped everything to rush around the guards and dragged Jhanna under him to protect her from the worst with his body, the throne sat squarely underneath the dome.

  
  


He stared into her confused face, his snout a couple inches from her nose as he tried to communicate with his eyes in those brief seconds how much he loved her, how sorry he was for not saying it more these past few weeks, that everything was going to be okay and he wouldn't let anything happen to her. He grunted when the larger shards struck and slid off his plates, catching them at an angle. The curved, smooth dome of his carapace deflected most of them and he hoped that none would fall at a right angle or on a less protected scute. He watched the geometrical shaped colours dance over Jhanna's features as she lay under him, grunting as a particularly large one caught, he felt it biting into his skin but didn't feel much pain at this point.

  
  


It only took a few seconds but felt like an eternity before the debris finished falling on them. He uncurled himself from her, still keeping his body above her but checking her over quickly, mindful of the urgency of their escape. He sighed in relief when she only had a few scrapes and superficial slices on her legs and nothing severe.

  
  


Lifting his head he saw the guards on her left and right had been impaled by a thousand glass daggers that shined with the evening's rays coming in through the open roof, pinning their limbs in the twisted positions they had taken to try protect themselves. He took in the bodies of the dead and dying among the glittering mosaic of destruction and caught sight of his own shadow on the wall looking like a rainbow porcupine with the coloured slivers still embedded and jutting out of his shell. He didn't feel it at all.

  
  


Donatello didn't bother to remove any as he quickly considered the escape routes available to them, those that were more likely to be compromised and those that may have been overlooked. Some of the Ministers had perished with gruesome wounds but most who were near the walls were still looking around dazedly. There was no time to waste.

  
  


He took a step, helping Jhanna up by her trembling hand but with a glance at her open sandals lifted her into his arms ignoring her protests as he crunched through the broken glass covering the floor with the thick soles of his feet. He encountered some of the Palace Guard in the hallway, where he lowered Jhanna as she ordered them to give her a report of the situation within the city.

  
  


Donatello took a moment to look around and spotted Cereth, the shy young servant boy who had been assigned to him huddled under a table still inside the throne room hugging something to his chest with his eyes firmly closed. He turned to step back in, trying not to stand in the way of the ministers who crowded around Jhanna when everyone stopped talking at once and gasped, making him pause.

  
  


They were all staring at him wide-eyed, or rather, at his shell and he could only imagine what he must look like as he watched them over his shoulder. Jhanna stepped forward and pulled out the longest one, making him grunt as it came free. It was the length of a sword, the tip stained with a bit of blood while the others were like daggers or shorter, some only the length of a finger or even a fingernail. It would be a nightmare to get rid of them, like that time he'd accidentally pressed his thigh against April's cactus plant. She tossed it back into the room with the rest and reached to pull another when he stopped her.

  
  


“Later, we've no time. We need to leave the city now.” She nodded and turned to continue speaking with the guards who kept glancing back at him, pale faced as they realised how close they had been to losing their Prime Magistrate.

  
  


“Cereth.” Donatello called out softly and the youth jumped when he put a hand on his midnight blue shoulder carefully pushing aside his white ponytail to take a look at him as he blinked slowly and looked back.

  
  


“You're alive.” He whispered with a bewildered smile.

  
  


“What are you doing here?” Donatello asked, trying to get the boy to move but everything was covered with glass and he winced at the thought of having the boy crawl over it and then walk to the door, he was missing a sandal but he couldn't spot it among the detritus. He hooked a large hand under his thin knees and another around his back and lifted Cereth much the same way as he had done with Jhanna to carry him out to the hallway before setting him down.

  
  


“I was bringing you your things.” He uncurled and Donatello could now see his old brown duffel with his gear. He'd already spotted his bo staff poking out from under his arm and realised he'd also recovered his laptop that had fallen when the explosions began. It probably wouldn't run with the large dent it was sporting.

  
  


“Thank you.” He answered gratefully. He'd thought he would have to leave everything behind but even having only this would be a huge help. “Give me a hand.” Donatello said as he began pulling off his ripped fine silk robes. Reached this point he couldn't care less about etiquette and protocol and he suspected they'd be fighting their way out.

  
  


Cereth helped him pull the robes over his head and the part that covered his shell, pinned into place by glass. Tugging gently on the item of clothing it dislodged the smaller pieces as it was removed but the boy had to pull out the larger ones by hand, wiggling them back and forth slightly before tossing them aside. One of them was firmly embedded between two scutes and Cereth drew back quickly when Don gasped in pain.

  
  


“Leave that one in,” he grunted out as he recovered, schooling his features when he noticed Jhanna had stopped talking and was glancing worriedly in his direction, “just rip the cloth around it, we'll take care of it later.” Donatello instructed.

  
  


The boy nodded and did as he was told, then rummaged around the bag to pull out Don's leathers, belt, pads and even his worn mask. He hesitated a moment before tying it around his head. He thought he'd feel strange and naked after spending so much time in fine clothing and there was a bit of that... but he hadn't felt so at home in a very long time. Reaching back to slide his bo staff in place and with fear and danger in the backdrop he felt himself again, as if this were just another crazy mission with his brothers, overcoming impossible odds every week. It filled him with a confidence and hope he hadn't felt in a while.

  
  


He walked up to Jhanna again and she did a double take when she got sight of him but didn't mention his state of undress.

  
  


“We are trapped!” One of the surviving ministers exclaimed. She'd been able to get word from the outside. “The City Guard is keeping the attackers busy for now but there's no way to escape unnoticed. The moment we set foot outside will be our last. There's no way out.”

  
  


“Of course there is!” Donatello spoke up, this was no time to play silent and submissive. He figured they'd forgive his intrusion if they lived. “You have a wonderful underground sewer system. I've seen maps of it, there's a large collecting tunnel that we can access from the dungeons and they would take us well out of the city all the way to the Omatria River. If we left now we could probably reach it by the time darkness falls and then make it to the forest at the base of the Ch'lall Mountains before sunrise.”

  
  


They stared at him as if he had sprouted an extra head. “How dare you!” Lady Beqenthal, Minister of Coin and one of the older, more traditionalist councillors exclaimed in outrage, her extravagant jewellery clinking together like a wind-chime as she shook with rage. “The sewers?! Walk among the filth like vermin?! Perhaps such things seem normal to one such as _you_ but we-”

  
  


“Will do what is necessary to ensure this government survives.” Jhanna cut off with her stern and powerful voice, silencing the shrill complaints of the older woman. She turned to Donatello and acknowledged him, validating his opinion, something that had never happened in public where he was but a decorative shadow at her side. “I have heard the tunnels are a maze, built over and through earlier ruins, how can we hope to navigate them without a guide?”

  
  


“I am counting on our enemies to think that way, to feel as outraged by the suggestion and therefore dismiss it as a possibility. Luckily for us I've been able to examine the plans and mapped out several routes we could use in case one of the paths is unusable. We'll need someone to let the head of the city guard know what our plans are so they can give us enough of a head start before calling retreat and meeting up with us somewhere safe.”

  
  


“It shall be done.” Jhanna nodded to one of the guards who bowed and rushed away with her orders. “Lead the way Donatello, we are leaving this instant. Take only what you can carry and have at hand right now. Leave everything else behind.”

  
  


His chest filled with love for her and a fierce determination to keep all these people alive with every ounce of strength he had. Thankfully, his yearning for his family the past months had made him return to a schedule similar to the one he kept with his brothers when they were still fighting against the Foot, rising early to train and even convincing some of the lower ranked, lower classed guards or recruits to spar with him on occasion when he practised at the facilities provided to them. It helped to structure his mostly empty days now that he didn't really have many responsibilities or freedom while at the same time making him feel closer to his family.

  
  


Jhanna relayed the situation report to him in a low voice as they walked through the tunnels, following his lead. The initial forces, the large and rare mechas provided by the wealthy Keztosian's had arrived that same evening, taking down most of the city guard quickly, attacking the bay where they kept their own mechas that had been left behind because they were obsolete models not fit for the front. They were unable to deploy but half a dozen that had been saved from the first wave of destruction kept in a separate building for maintenance, a couple of them engaging in combat with an arm missing or part of the shielding removed.

  
  


They reached the end of the sewers but had to wait until sundown when they emerged from the tunnels wading through the shallow murky waters of the river. As they entered the cover of the forest Donatello's strength finally gave out and he collapsed to his knees and then tipped forward, not even lifting his arms to stop his fall. Only Jhanna's quick reflexes saved him from a mouthful of dirt, keeping him up with a firm hold on his shoulders.

  
  


His body felt like lead and at the same time light as a feather as a numbness fell over him. “Blood loss.” He mumbled into Jhanna's warm shoulder exhaling softly with a dazed smile. He'd done it, he'd gotten them out safe and sound and now, enveloped by her scent and warmth he was almost ready to rest.

  
  


“Y-you need to head to the mountains.” He continued, wanting to give her as much help as he could with the breath he still had. “The mountain pass, a few mechas can hold them off and you can find refuge in the caverns.”

  
  


“You are dreaming, Donatello, if you think I will leave you behind or let you die.” Jhanna answered him. “Save your strength, my love. You have done well.” She turned her back to him, keeping him upright on his knees and his arms over her shoulders as she leaned forward, taking his weight and lifting him with her as she stood, slipping her arms under his thighs to hold him to her. She could feel the slick wetness on the back of his left thigh. Blood, probably from the glass still protruding from his shell. No one had noticed in the darkness of the sewers as his life trickled down his back, he hadn't complained nor had it hindered their escape.

  
  


She had chosen her consort well. Never had she been so filled with pride as that moment when she saw how much he was willing to give her, every drop of his blood, to keep her and her kingdom safe. “I will not let you go yet, my love. I still need you.” She whispered as the group started moving again.

  
  


Wordlessly, a low ranking guard she did not know fell into step beside her, hooking an arm under his thighs as well to help keep him on her back. Cereth scurried forward and tied Donatello's wrists carefully together with a piece of cloth to keep his arms from slipping off her shoulders. He hurried behind her as she walked to hold cloth around the glass dagger, trying to plug the seeping wound as best as he could while they kept moving.

 


	5. Council

Once they managed to leave the city through the underground sewage system with Donatello leading the way and completely unnoticed, they had the surviving mechas retreat from the fight, abandoning the city's defence along the with the surviving city guard. Their orders were to rendezvous with them and escort them to the mountains, staying behind at a narrow pass so that they could give them as much time as necessary and even-out their numbers using the geography to their advantage.

  
  


Now they were down to only two mecha which Donatello had helped salvage and repair from only slightly damaged parts of the recovered machines as soon as he was healthy enough to move around. Their problem was that only two power cores remained intact and without access to more t'laksi energy crystals (most of the t'laksi crystal mines were either on Keztosian territory or out of their reach) they couldn't get any more. They were also low on engineers and down to a single company of the city guard until they could get reinforcements so even if the presence of a male turtle amongst the military weapons was unusual, they could not afford to send away the offered help.

  
  


They'd stayed in the narrow mountain passes, covered by the dense forests or taking to the caverns and complicated subterranean tunnels under the mountains that the people of the land knew well and proved treacherous for any outsiders. So far they'd been able to survive with hardly any confrontation, sending out occasional messages to the generals fighting on two fronts now and receiving supplies through hidden routes used by pirates and smugglers that were well hidden. Even though they were cut off from the main army they had to keep communications flowing even if they risked discovery, making sure the population knew Jhanna was alive and well and still ruling from a safe yet unknown location.

  
  


Still, they were running out of time. The fact that the Qhalovites had joined Moriah's cause, had been able to take Omatria so easily and that the rebels were not in fact “squashed” by Jhanna's forces yet was making a lot of people question Jhanna's cause and leadership capabilities.

  
  


“What do you think?” Jhanna suddenly asked in the middle of a war council at the tent set up with a table in the middle and a huge holographic display showing the land and the disposition of troops.

  
  


Donatello, who was back to standing behind her like a decorative shadow and keeping silent took a moment before he realised she was addressing him, everyone around the table staring in the direction of The Consort. Lady Beqenthal snorted, lifting her chin in contempt and turned her head away but some of the others of the court looked at him with interest.

  
  


“Well,” He began slowly as he walked around Jhanna to stand in front of the table like everyone else. He felt like a midget amongst giants as the tall blue women towered over him. “If I were Moriah...” He had to ignore another snort and a snicker from another minister. “I'd realise now that there was no chance of winning the war on the battlefield nor do I have a candidate to call Elections that could contest your rule and win.”

  
  


“Yes, we know that, creature.” Lady Beqenthal addressed Donatello with a sneer. “This is a waste of time!” She rose to leave but a gesture from Jhanna was all it took for her to sit back down.

  
  


“What do you think her next move will be? What is the purpose to continue if she knows she cannot win?” A younger minister asked, she had been recently appointed to take the vacant seat of the Minister of Communications who hadn't made it out alive from the initial attack on Omatria.

  
  


“You cannot mean to take this one's words seriously, Lady Szerra!” The Minister of Defence interrupted. She was a hardened military veteran, her dark almost charcoal-grey skin was covered in lighter grey scars and her dark hair was cropped short, part of it sticking out and parted where a thick scar cut into her scalp in a horizontal line above her right brow. She had shown disdain for Donatello before, was one of the first who'd objected to him even being present while they spoke of important matters.

  
  


She was well respected in Court and despite her roughened and serious nature was well loved by the population. She'd been born and trained in Qhalo as an Elite but her devotion to Queen Jhanna was unquestionable. From what Donatello had heard of the Elite Soldiers it was much like the Spartan soldiers back on Earth: trained from a very young age with harsh yet effective methods not suitable quite for everyone but producing incredibly skilled warriors and among those Elite Soldiers of Qhalos, Lady Alzenia had been a legend. She'd been the first to object angrily to Donatello's suggestion that the Qhalovites planned to betray them but she'd also been the main reason they'd had enough time to make it out of the city.

  
  


“He has no experience in war, his opinion is of no use to us.” She stated with finality.

  
  


“But Lady Alzenia,” Szerra pleaded, “He knows all our history, all of our wars, all the great battles that have ever been written and are kept in the Royal Library.” Szerra defended.

  
  


“Books! Scrolls! He is nothing but a scholar!” Her voice boomed over whatever the young Minister was about to say and the other Ministers stood as they began to argue angrily amongst themselves. Donatello wasn't the only one's opinion she had discarded.

  
  


“And yet he predicted the Qhalovite's treason, Alzenia. Something even a veteran such as yourself did not see.” A terribly old woman spoke sternly without rising from her chair and the commotion died down immediately.

  
  


Donatello knew her to be Omatra, Minister of Information or as some called her, Minister of Secrets. She rarely spoke during Council, preferring to speak to Jhanna privately before or after. Donatello only knew this because if it had ever coincided with him being present he would always be asked to leave. She carried an old name and some joked she'd been there when the land was created giving it _her_ name and not the other way around.

  
  


“This... _creature_ , as you say was able to see through the twisted schemes of Moriah. Perhaps we need the eyes of one who is not clouded by our traditions and way of thinking to see into this. Moriah is clearly not following these traditions we hold on to so stubbornly.” The old woman continued.

  
  


Lady Alzenia crossed her arms but sat down without another word. Lady Omatra was one of the few members of the Council without military background who's authority she respected. The rest of the Court turned to Donatello who had stepped back from the table when the arguments began.

  
  


“Go on, boy.” Lady Omatra spoke with her hoarse voice, raising a spotted and crooked hand to invite him back to the table. “What would your next move be if you were...” She twisted her mouth as if to taste the words before letting them go. “...calling the shots, as you children would say.”

  
  


Donatello bowed his head to her and stepped back to the table placing his fingers on the edge and glancing sideways to Jhanna. “I would have you killed.” He said quietly and some of the Ministers gasped in outrage, Lady Omatra smiled against her steepled fingers and nodded in agreement.

  
  


“This is all an elaborate ruse to waste time and force you out into the open within her reach.” Donatello swept a hand over the flickering holographic map. “She was probably hoping the Qhalovites would have done it for her and now she can only use her temporary victories and the subjects she's been able to rally herself to cause doubt and create rumours of your worth. You'll be forced to confront her out in the open eventually to maintain your own alliances and your name. Then she will strike you down, preferably in secret, before you can gather your forces against her.”

  
  


“This is absurd! A fantasy!” Lady Alzenia rose, striking a scarred fist against the table causing the hologram to disappear. Donatello winced at the crackling noise coming from the device. “Even if Moriah would be capable of such actions it would never give her the throne if the truth got out. It serves no purpose and even if it were true what does that mean for our campaign? Shall we keep Prime Magistrate Jhanna hidden away for as long as this war continues? What kind of people would follow a ruler like that?!”

  
  


“She has a way of keeping things she does not want to be found out a secret, my dear.” Lady Omatra answered. “Sit down, child, we know you dislike the idea, no need to act it out.” Her onyx gaze fell on Donatello once again. “You know what she is capable of, I hear you were present during Jhanna's election.” No one flinched at her lack of the proper titles, it was known that this woman's granddaughter had helped birth Jhanna while she herself was present at the birth of her family leading back several generations and she would tell anyone who would lend an ear how fiercely Jhanna had bawled as a babe and the great strength in her hands when she held your fingers.

  
  


“It was never proven she had brought those monsters that intervened in the Election. That was nothing but a terrible accident that thankfully had no consequences for the outcome.” Lady Beqenthal spoke up, the gold around her neck sparkling as she turned her head this way and that addressing the others.

  
  


Jhanna, who had been silent up to that moment listening to Donatello and her Court, spoke up. “It was no accident, Donatello can attest to it. She had damaged my ship in the hopes that I would would perish before the Election and when I did not, she brought along backup intending to have them finish me off without having to fight.”

  
  


When the Ministers began speaking again she continued. “It matters not. We are not here to speak about this. Is there anything else you can tell us, Donatello? Anything we have missed?”

  
  


“Something isn't adding up here. I think you were right about Qhalo, Lady Alzenia.” Donatello ignored the others as he addressed the war veteran to her surprise and confusion. “What would they have to gain by taking Moriah's side in all this? Why risk everything? They were already in favour of the Court, they had more privileges than any other region. I think we need to investigate the cause for their dissent. Has there been any news regarding their leader?”

  
  


“Only that the Governor's first-born daughter was against the decision.” Lady Szerra, Minister of Communication answered. “They say she left the land shortly before the orders went out, not wanting anything to do with them.”

  
  


“And yet, no one has seen her since.” Lady Omatra answered. “We've been looking to give her refuge and try get leverage to bring Qhalo back to our side but there has been no word of her whereabouts.”

  
  


“It doesn't make sense for her not to have reached out to us or a neighbouring territory.” He paused for a moment and the others remained in silence, Lady Omatra's dark eyes never leaving his face as he crossed his arms and touched his chin. “What if she can't? What if this is what Moriah has over Qhalo?”

  
  


“You believe her capable of kidnapping and holding her in exchange for Qhalo's support? Why would the Governor accept this? Why not just come clean with everything?” Lady Alzenia asked with none of her previous fury or contempt, only shock graced her features and her voice had softened as she spoke with fear, knowing the answer to her first question would be yes.

  
  


“I also think that we escaped too easily from the Capital. They could have given chase and they know these lands reasonably well but they have not been looking for us. Moriah had to send her own troops to try find us.” Donatello said with his fingers on his chin and gaze on the table, his eyes darting back and forth as he assessed the possibilities.

  
  


Lady Alzenia opened her mouth to speak but closed it and leaned back thoughfully as well. She had not considered this option. The fighting back in Omatria had been ruthless and they'd lost many before they could fall back so she had not thought at the time that they were going easy on them. It was true that after they escaped they sent a small force to meet them at the mountain pass which they repelled. It hadn't been easy but with their numbers so diminished they should have been able to crush them if Qhalo had fallen upon them with full force. She had chalked it up to an error in judgement, and underestimate of how many they had left or the inexperience of the person in command to know the advantage the narrow mountain pass provided them. But if what Donatello was saying was true...

  
  


“Perhaps Moriah's reach and treachery runs deep in the Qhalovite Court.” Lady Omatra responded. “It would be necessary to pull off such a feat, snatching the Governor's own daughter from her palace...”

  
  


“Can you find out, Lady Omatra?” Jhanna asked. “If this were true we could attempt a rescue and once Qhalo returns to our side and her treachery is revealed she will lose many followers, Moriah will have no choice but to surrender.”

  
  


The old woman shook her head. “My sources have done all they can, we would need to send envoys...”

  
  


“They would never get past the gates.” Lady Alzenia answered as a hand swept over her furrowed brow and then her short locks. “Chances are their orders are to kill anyone suspicious on sight and the Qhalovite defences are impenetrable, their warriors exceptionally trained.”

  
  


“You could do it.” Donatello spoke quietly to Lady Alzenia, unsure of how his suggestion would come across. The room went deathly quiet as all eyes turned to Donatello and then Lady Alzenia. “It wouldn't be so hard to believe you found a way to escape and join your people.”

  
  


“I would never!” Lady Alzenia began.

  
  


“No one is saying you would.” Jhanna interrupted. “Donatello wouldn't have suggested this if he wasn't sure of your loyalty, but he is correct. You are the only one who could do this, what say you, Lady Alzenia?”

 


	6. Finding Friendship

“You are unhappy.” Cereth said in his soft, shy voice several mornings later as he was about to tie a braided rope made of gold and dangling purple gems around his brow to hold the sheer cloth that covered his head and shoulders in place. He'd brought the turtle some books he'd been able to convince the supply runner to bring to him from the neighbouring towns but Donatello had only thanked him and put them aside saying he'd have a look later.

  
  


Donatello shook his head but Cereth wasn't fooled. By now he knew the turtle a little better and he'd never managed to hide how he was feeling very well either. He clicked his tongue and pulled off the rope and cloth. “I want to help.” He whispered as he put the items away. “I do not like seeing you like this.”

  
  


“It's nothing.” Donatello replied. “Nothing you can help with.”

  
  


Cereth watched him with large hopeful eyes but when Donatello said nothing further he sighed. “I will try.” He said and held out a dark blue hand for Don to take.

  
  


Donatello quirked an eye ridge at the boy before shrugging and taking it, allowing Cereth to help him up and lead him out of the tent. It wasn't very early but he had nothing to do and had slept in after Jhanna left. They were camped in a hidden valley with a difficult access through the mountains, their camp hidden by the stealth shields set up all along the sheer mountain edge. They'd sacrificed the third operational mecha to power it but it was imperative they remain hidden. The only way they could be found right now was if someone wandered in by foot and still they would not see the camp until they descended below the level of the shield emitters.

  
  


Several soldiers looked up from their morning routine training and set their eyes on him. He was missing most of the decorative items he normally wore, dressed only in the white simple tunic that would be usually covered with other coloured silks and adornments. They did not speak but their eyes roamed over his body appreciatively and Cereth squeezed his hand as they passed, knowing that Donatello felt uncomfortable at their attention.

  
  


Donatello was rather content at the hand-holding now. It would have been a strange thought to have before his arrival at Omatron but here it was common for male friends to share a close bond with a lot of physical contact. Jhanna had looked at him strangely when he'd tried holding hers on one occasion, asking him what he was doing and explaining that it was viewed as something childish in her culture, something only boys did or small children with their parents. Realising how strange it would be for her to do something like that to him for his benefit he'd dropped the subject but when Cereth had started doing it he decided he rather liked it, not for the hand-holding itself but the meaning it held. It felt like two friends sneaking away together to cause mischief or look for adventure.

  
  


They walked to the edge of the camp hand in hand and turned a corner so they were no longer in sight, outside of the cover of the shields. “Where are we going?” Donatello whispered. “Should we be going so far?”

  
  


“No.” Cereth answered turning his head and revealing an impish smile. “A few other servants and I found a place and we kept it hidden. I want to share it with you.” He whispered back and pulled the turtle closer to him.

  
  


Even though Donatello had managed to get Cereth to open up to him more since his arrival he'd never been able to convince him to do anything with him that wasn't part of his servant duties. He was intrigued by his actions and glad to be sharing this adventure. It was important enough to him to risk a possible scolding from Jhanna for wandering out from under the cover of the shields. But for now they weren't Royal Consort and servant, they were just friends sneaking off to share a secret. He grinned at the thought and Cereth giggled excitedly when he caught his expression reminding him of Mikey when he managed to convince him to take part in some elaborate prank with him.

  
  


They nearly missed the entrance to a cleft in the sheer rock wall and Cereth came to a sudden stop and backtracked a few steps to find it. “Here.” He said as he pulled Donatello inside. “Touch the wall, be careful, I'll lead the way.”

  
  


Donatello's eyes were used to navigating dark passages and he ended up taking point when Cereth stumbled, pulling him up by the hand he held before he fell. “How far is it?” He asked, but Cereth only laughed softly and told him he'd see.

  
  


“This kind of reminds me of home.” Donatello said and Cereth made an incredulous snort. He'd tried telling the boy on occasion that he used to live in a sewer but he didn't think he'd managed to make him believe it until after the escape from Omatria and even now he'd look at him with a disbelieving expression whenever he'd tell stories about the lair under the streets of Manhattan. “You're right, this smells slightly better.” He answered with a laugh. “And it's... warmer?”

  
  


Even though the area they were in was a considerably arid region and they were still months away from winter, the elevation of their camp and the fact it was cast in shadows most of the day meant that the temperatures here dropped significantly, specially at night or early morning. The air in the passage, though, was becoming slightly warmer.

  
  


There was light coming from around the corner and he slowed down when he saw where it came from, gasping in surprise. He thought that maybe they'd set up a lantern or some other kind of light source but the light came from a hole in the ceiling of a slightly more ample cavern than the passage they had walked through. It illuminated a small pool of cerulean water.

  
  


“It is just the right time!” Cereth exclaimed before beginning to pull off his clothing.

  
  


“A hot spring?” Donatello laughed, glad that Cereth wasn't undressing him as was his job but treating him as a friend would, letting him worry about his own clothes while the boy pulled his own tunic over his head and sloshed into the pool with a happy sigh.

  
  


Donatello pulled off his own and let it drop onto the floor, not minding if it got a little dust on it before joining him. The pool was rather small and their knees touched as they sat in the warm water but it was amazing. They laughed and splashed each other a little and then sat in companionable silence as they watched the spot of light move away from the pool and then disappear as the sunlight changed its angle.

  
  


“Jhanna and I...” Donatello started after a while, his thoughts travelling back to the sadness he'd felt that morning. “...we aren't doing very well. Together, I mean.” He sighed at his confession, it was a huge understatement.

  
  


They'd argued again last night and slept without touching on Jhanna's large bed. He kept expecting her to tell him to go to his own tent adjoining hers, wondered if her back turned to him on her side of the mattress meant he should go but he couldn't do it. He was terrified she'd ask him to leave and had waited in tension, laying stiffly on the bed until he heard her breath even out in her sleep.

  
  


“I know.” Cereth answered and explained further at Don's questioning look. “My room is beside yours, I know most things that happen or that don't... happen.” At Donatello's horrified expression he added with his hands raised to try appease him. “It is like that on purpose! It is my job to know everything about you to serve you as best as I can or if you need anything at any time.”

  
  


The addition didn't help to ease his embarrassment, his cheeks burning and his mouth pressed tightly closed with self-consciousness. Cereth nudged him with a knee trying to get him out of his thoughts but his mind crowded with all the noises and things they'd said and done in the throws of passion within earshot of the boy and he could only cover his face with his hands and groan, wishing he could rub them away before he died of humiliation. Maybe he could drown himself in the pool...

  
  


Cereth laughed softly and shook his head. “You feel no shame over some things that make me shocked and then become shy with others that are only natural.” I do not understand you. Donatello peeked at him through his fingers and laughed as Cereth kept nudging and poking him.

  
  


“I will help you find some happiness.” The boy said determinedly after a while. “It is difficult here in the mountains but we can try.” He nodded as he made the decision. “You were finding things at the Palace and we can look here too.”

  
  


“Like escaping to bathe in this pool?” Donatello asked him with a soft smile.

  
  


“Yes!” Cereth grinned back. “But it is a secret, you must not tell anyone!” Donatello nodded. “I have found some books and I think the supply runner took electronics to the engineer tent. Perhaps you could fix your holo-pad, yes? Maybe you can receive word from your family and send them messages.”

  
  


“My laptop? That would be wonderful. We can go later.” The thought of his family brought a pang of sadness but Donatello tried to smile through it. Cereth didn't seem to buy it.

  
  


“Hmmm...” The boy said thoughtfully and then slid into place beside Donatello putting a skinny arm over his thick green muscled shoulders. “Training?” He said wrinkling his nose at the thought as he leaned into Don. “Maybe I could find out when some of the soldiers go out to march and patrol and you have some space and privacy to start that again?”

  
  


Donatello nodded, trying not to think about the very naked Cereth pressed against his side. Suddenly he wondered if April had ever felt uncomfortable hugging them at first because he and his brother essentially always walked around naked. He sighed and shook his head, strangely thankful for the darkened cavern that covered them in shadows.

  
  


“Prime Magistrate Jhanna is lucky to have you.” Cereth confessed as they pulled their clothes back on and walked back through the passage. Donatello hummed in thanks but he continued speaking. “I've never met another like you. At first you seemed strange and foreign to me but... you have become well loved and admired by many people and...” He hesitated nervously and Donatello could feel his palms getting colder and clammy, “... and by me.” He finished in a tiny voice.

  
  


Donatello stopped in the passage, Cereth's hand was trembling and he decided to make light of his words. “Who are these people you speak of? I'd like to meet them, they hide very well.”

  
  


Cereth huffed a weak laugh, “Men, mostly lower class. You are spoken of often among my friends and acquaintances. I get asked about you often and on more than one occasion I've had a drink paid or a free snack sent my way along with good wishes for you. You have become somewhat famous among those like us.”

  
  


Donatello wasn't sure if he was included in the “us” Cereth spoke of but he was convinced the boy was probably exaggerating to make him feel better. He was certain Cereth's friends probably spoke of him and asked him about the Royal Consort he served despite his low class. Jhanna had even asked him on more than one occasion to get a more suitable servant after she'd found out who he'd been assigned during her absence just after Donatello's arrival but he'd refused adamantly.

  
  


“I know you miss your family, your brothers you have told me about and I know that it is impossible to substitute them but...” Cereth continued speaking as they exited the darkened passage and Donatello stopped and turned to him when he felt the waver in his voice. “I am sure they are proud of you, I... w-would be honoured to have a brother such as you.”

  
  


Out in the open Donatello saw the way Cereth's lips trembled, the corners of his mouth curling down in tiny twitches and he was blinking quickly, his eyes shiny with water. He pulled the boy by the hand and enveloped his small frame into a firm embrace. He squeaked a little in surprise and then huffed out a shaky laugh before pressing his cheek against a green and slightly damp shoulder.

  
  


“Have you heard from your family back in Omatria?” Donatello asked quietly speaking against the fuzzy short white hair on the side of the boy's head.

  
  


Cereth shook his head against Donatello, his body trembling slightly with emotion as he whimpered out his answer. “The merchant said he didn't find anyone in the house, it was empty.”

  
  


Donatello nodded as he rubbed the boy's back in soothing circles, offering him as much comfort as he was able. When Cereth had recovered and loosened his grip he held him by the shoulders. “Don't worry prematurely. I've heard reports that the Qhalovite army are treating the civilians well and their military prisoners with respect. If the house is empty it is possible they sneaked out of the city before it was taken.”

  
  


He lowered his arms and thought about the possibilities and what he could do about it. If this were Earth he'd try to find a list of identified casualties but a low born civilian on Omatran wouldn't make any list. They could only rely on word-of-mouth to hear about any news. “If you'd like I could give you leave to travel to the nearest unoccupied cities to search for them, it is likely they fled to one of them.”

  
  


Cereth shook his head, wiping his face and drawing himself up to his full height, a couple inches shorter than Donatello. “No, I believe you are right. I can only pray that they are safe and waiting for my return.”

  
  


“What we could do is...” Don started to speak as the thought formed in his head. “... next time Jhanna has to give a video message you could stand beside me in the background. That way they will see you and know you are safe. Once we return to Omatria after this is over they know to come look for you.”

  
  


Cereth nodded and sniffled giving Don a warm smile despite the tears. Donatello took him by the hand and the smile grew wider as they walked back to the tent, shoulders bumping together and talking animately about their plans for the day.

 


	7. Finding Family

“Forgive me.” Jhanna said upon entering their tent that night but stopped when she noticed they were not alone.

  
  


Donatello stopped mid sentence and looked up from the table where he had opened and spread out all the bits of his laptop, still not operational since their escape. Cereth immediately stopped what he was doing, the soft bristle brush he was using to clean the motherboard held up as he looked between them. He noticed the displeased scowl forming on her face and he put the piece down on the table and bowed low until he was curled up on the floor, head touching the thick rugs.

  
  


“Leave us.” Jhanna commanded and the boy rose and left, scurrying quietly along the edge of the tent and turning to walk backwards, facing Jhanna without lifting his head as he exited.

  
  


“There's nothing to forgive, Jhanna, and I wish you'd be kinder to Cereth I'm just getting him to open up...”

  
  


“It is not his place, nor yours-” Jhanna began, irritation lacing her tone before she stopped herself and sighed, not wanting to get into an old argument. “Why do you continue to test me, and our ways? Are they so difficult to follow?”

  
  


“I try, Jhanna.” Donatello answered, his hands splayed with palms up. “Some things just go completely against my nature. Is it so bad to make a friend?” He paused with his head lowered slightly as he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes watching her intently with sadness. “Or to speak out when I see a danger no one has noticed?”

  
  


He didn't want them to fight over this, not now when Jhanna was under such tremendous pressure. She seemed to have aged a decade since the war started. He understood things were different here, there was a protocol for everything and her position made things even more difficult. He'd tried his best to fit into the predesignated role he was supposed to but a lot of it just went completely against his every fibre. Sometimes he felt the more he conceded the more blurred his identity became and when it pleased Jhanna part of him was happy but another part, a deep part of himself that would not be quieted for much longer, twisted and rebelled.

  
  


He'd begun to seriously question the reasons that brought him here. They hadn't really known each other very well when he arrived, what was it she loved in him? And why did his submissiveness sometimes irritate him so much? He'd always been kind and peaceful with his brothers, hadn't minded one bit to live in the shadow of Leonardo, follow him loyally and defer decisions to him. At first he reasoned this was the same thing just slightly different but as time passed it didn't feel that way any longer.

  
  


His submissiveness went beyond just being respectful in public. Leonardo always made the decisions but he would seek him for counsel, his opinion was highly valued and he was depended on. Here he was nothing. At first it was dismissed because he wasn't experienced in their ways, needed to learn more about them starting with their language which he learned quickly in order to advance his own education. The translating collar only went so far, if you wanted to read a book you had to do it the old fashioned way. He was an outsider looking in but as time went on his situation never changed no matter the knowledge he amassed.

  
  


Even in private Jhanna did not want to discuss anything of importance with him until recently and it tended to end up sparking arguments anyway. He didn't doubt that she loved him but when even she dismissed his opinion, his intellect, he'd feel deeply hurt. She hadn't taken him as an advisor, he was a consort, he understood that. He just wished he mattered.

  
  


He'd been waiting for the armed conflict with Keztos under Moriah's influence to end in order to bring up the conversation with Jhanna that could possibly lead to them breaking off their relationship and returning to Earth to his family when he'd realised this wasn't going to last only a few days and the situation was much more dire than Jhanna wanted to think.

  
  


Jhanna sat beside him with her shoulders hunched and sighed again. “How are you feeling?” She asked quietly as her palm travelled over the scarred tissue where part of a plate had been carved away. The glass dagger had shattered when they tried to remove it and they'd had to perform surgery to make sure they left nothing inside the wound.

  
  


“I'm fine.” He answered with a smile at her hesitant show of affection, accepting her change in subject. “It looks worse than it is, turtle's shells take a long time to grow back.”

  
  


They remained in silence, each in their own thoughts when Donatello spoke up. “What were you asking forgiveness for?”

  
  


“Lady Alzenia has returned.” She stated simply. “Your suspicions were correct and the daughter of the Governor isn't the only one being held hostage. Moriah has been able to take several key hostages to sway a vote and force them into an entente.” Donatello turned his head to look at her as she spoke, his expression carefully neutral, but she wouldn't look at him. “You were right.” She said softly. “About everything.”

  
  


“I wish I wasn't.” He answered back just as softly and reached for her hand to offer comfort but it was pulled away as soon as he shifted.

  
  


“I didn't value you the way you deserve. You were only a Consort, a lover...” Donatello let out a puff of air and curled the corner of his mouth into a half smile deciding he wasn't going to take offence. “You are strong and intelligent for a man but...” She twisted her mouth as she held back the words she didn't want to speak, standing up and beginning to pace instead.

  
  


“But...?” Donatello prompted and shielded his heart for her revelation. He didn't want to have this conversation now, it wasn't the time. Granted, perhaps there wouldn't be a better time for them but it wasn't as if he could just leave if this conversation was headed in the direction he thought it was.

  
  


“You are also soft.” Jhanna answered. She probably was going to say something else, like weak. “You are gentle, kind and nurturing... which are excellent traits for a man,” she added quickly, not wanting to make him feel offended, “but they are not qualities for a leader or an advisor.”

  
  


“Can't I be all those things? Is it so bad? I was only trying to help you.” Donatello answered in the most disarming way possible.

  
  


“I know, you did well.” She smiled at him and it dispelled some of the anxiety that twisted his gut. “But I cannot promise things will change, that you will be valued as you deserve after this is over. My people are...”

  
  


“Set in their ways, I know. I'm not asking to be given a position of power or authority, Jhanna. It is enough that you value me and maybe to have the freedom to speak my mind when it is relevant. Is it too much to ask?”

  
  


“Perhaps it is. Change here comes slowly.” Jhanna responded sadly. “If it is known that I consult matters of State with you or go to you for advice, it could undermine my position. It isn't about me and what I think, you know I-” She lifted a hand to cup Donatello's cheek and he leaned into the deliberate touch but whatever she was about to say was interrupted.

  
  


“Royal Consort Donatello?” A timid voice called from the other side of the entrance of the tent. It was Cereth.

  
  


“What is it?” Jhanna's irate voice boomed, annoyed that he had disobeyed and returned when they were obviously not finished with their conversation, the walls were made of cloth after all and Cereth's bed roll was set up in a small adjoining tent near the entrance to their own so that he may make himself ready for when Donatello needed him.

  
  


She folded her arms at his indecisive lack of an answer. She didn't like him and it wasn't only because the boy lacked composure and a backbone but because Donatello seemed to require his presence whenever he wasn't with her and she couldn't understand why, the boy was a simpleton. She would have had him relegated to other menial duties after witnessing him fail at basic tasks such as serving the turtle meals without spilling them on him. He'd even burnt Donatello with scalding hot soup and he'd only laughed it off, wiped himself down and offered the frightened boy a smile. She'd also heard rumours of someone seeing them embrace outside the limits of the camp.

  
  


Donatello's eye ridge shot up at the angry answer and he gave Jhanna an incredulous look. “Cereth, come in.” He answered kindly, walking over to the entrance to open the flap when he made no move to enter the tent himself.

  
  


“Ain't you a little overdressed ta be out camping?” A gruff voice spoke as soon as he pulled back the 'door'.

  
  


Donatello could only gape in surprise before he was knocked over by a charging turtle into a hug on the floor. “Mikey! Guys! H-how?” He was able to wheeze out before wincing as Mikey rocked him on the floor side to side, pressing into the damaged part of his carapace that would still take some time to completely heal.

  
  


“If you think we wouldn't rush over here after your last message...” Leonardo started, pulling Mikey off the squashed turtle by the top lip of his carapace and then helping Don up. “We were really worried when we didn't hear anything else from you. When we contacted Honeycutt and the Utroms their news was grim. We came as soon as we could. It was difficult to find you after we arrived here though, the Palace... the Capital...” He didn't let go of Donatello's hand after pulling him up, squeezing it and his voice going quiet at the end of his sentence.

  
  


They must have thought...

  
  


Raphael barrelled into him next, squooshing their cheeks together as he laughed and lifted him up making him grunt, “Look at you with your fancy costume!” Mikey commented in the background as he flicked some of the dangling beads tied around his head. “You are one step from Slave Leia. I like it, it suits you.”

  
  


Donatello looked over Raph's shoulder at Cereth's horrified expression, his arms up and looking like he should intervene but not knowing what to do. He tried to give the boy a warm smile to try calm him but it came out looking more like an embarrassed grimace. “Thank you Cereth, you can go back to bed.” He managed to croak.

  
  


“Ahem.” Jhanna coughed politely from behind him and they all turned.

  
  


Michelangelo opened his arms with a huge smile. “Sis!” He said before enveloping her in a hug which she returned somewhat stiffly but smiling back.

  
  


“We heard what happened, is there anything we can do to help?” Leonardo said after offering Jhanna his hand.

  
  


She began to shake her head politely but before she could say anything Donatello spoke up. “Actually...” they both looked at each other and seemed to have a silent argument with their eyes.

  
  


The brothers looked between them puzzled at how tensed the atmosphere had become with a single word.

  
  


Jhanna finally sighed, defeated, though the turtles didn't understand exactly why. “Very well.” She answered. “They may be present but not participate, you shall speak on their behalf if required but it will most likely not be necessary.”

  
  


Donatello gave her a weak smile of gratitude. “I will let them know what they're supposed to do. I'll have them stand behind me if that's alright?”

  
  


Jhanna nodded and walked to the side of the tent that lead to Don's “room” though he rarely used it. “They may stay here.” She raised a hand when Leonardo opened his mouth to complain. “It is fine, this one is larger, you all can probably fit on the bedding and nights are unforgiving for cold-blooded creatures like yourselves to risk exposure. Donatello's room is more than sufficient for my needs and you probably have a lot of catching up to do.” She nodded to Donatello before leaving. “Goodnight.” She said before walking away.

  
  


“Is everything okay?” Leonardo asked Don tentatively when they were alone.

  
  


Donatello turned around to face them, so happy they were here and yet felt suddenly so exposed and terrified. Everything he had been burying, putting aside to deal with later and avoiding came rushing back to him. He was suddenly a child again, his big brother finding him upset sitting in the sewer tunnels crying, wiping the tears off his little brother's cheek and swinging an arm around his shoulders to listen patiently to whatever it was that was ailing him.

  
  


He opened his mouth to tell him that he was fine, that he'd just missed them but when his words faltered Leonardo quickly stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. He felt Michelangelo latch onto him from behind, curling against his shell as he stroked the damaged scutes carefully and then Raphael's rough hand rubbing his head over the jewellery he was decorated with.

  
  


Leonardo pulled away when he felt Don ease up his grip on him and the others followed suit but he kept his hands on the olive turtle's shoulders. “You can come home with us if you want. You know that, right?”

  
  


“How did you know-?” Donatello began but was cut off by Mikey.

  
  


“It was kind of obvious something was up, dude. You started writing to us a whole lot and you never mentioned the stuff you used to any more, about Jhanna and the stuff you were doing. You used to talk about her All. The. Time.”

  
  


“It's not what you think...” Donatello tried to explain.

  
  


“Then what's wrong Donny-boy?” Raphael spoke up, anger making his voice a bit louder than Don was comfortable with. “If you don't wanna be here no more just say the word and we'll bail you out.”

  
  


“It's... complicated, you'll see tomorrow, I guess. There are things you should know before we go to the war council in the morning and I'm sure you want to go to bed as soon as possible.” His brothers frowned at his dismissal but said nothing else.

  
  


Donatello rubbed his head and his fingers caught on the beads, he pulled it off and set it down on one of the chests with his personal items and then began removing everything. His brothers didn't wear clothes, he'd never worn anything before other than his protective gear and yet it felt really odd to be undressing in front of them. He could feel their eyes on him as he did and it wasn't helping. They must have noticed his unease because after a while of standing around they began removing their own gear as well and climbing into the bed they would share.

  
  


He hadn't thought he would feel so uncomfortable among his own family though once he was done and scooting onto the bed to take the spot they'd left for him in the middle beside Mikey he felt a little more at ease. In the arms of his brothers he slept more soundly than he had for a long time.

 


End file.
